Pay Attention to Me
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: With a little help from Hermione (a push), Ron has finally gathered enough courage to ask out the boy that he's been having dreams about, Draco. He just needs to keep his eyes where they belong, on the blonde sitting across from him, and not the matron of The Three Broomsticks. (Sequel to Dear Dream Journal). First date, first kiss (Fluff)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction and am not making a profit, monetary or otherwise, through the writing of this.

 **A/N:** Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's July Fortnight Two, Postal Worker Day. Section 2: (setting) Three Broomsticks

This is AU.

* * *

"You're supposed to be paying attention to _me,_ not that harlot," Draco whispered harshly, giving Ron a smouldering look.

 _"Ask him out on a date," Hermione had said. "See where it goes. Maybe it will stop the dreams that you've been having, or maybe...maybe you'll find something good with him."_

It had all sounded so simple when he'd talked with Hermione about the dreams that had been plaguing him (he'd given up on journalling) for weeks. Of course, it had been two in the morning and Ron had been sleep deprived at the time. He'd been operating on autopilot for days, so he couldn't really be blamed for the predicament that he found himself in now. On a date, with Draco Malfoy, hater of Gryffindors and all things Muggle and Harry Potter and Weasley.

Ron could feel himself blushing as he forced his eyes away from Madam Rosmerta's ample bosoms and to the blonde who was shooting daggers at him with his eyes.

Uncomfortable with the way that Draco was looking at him, and with sitting across from the other boy, on an actual date (Hermione's suggestion, and after he'd sworn to himself that he was _not_ going to let her talk him into anything - he truly was a weak man), Ron dropped his gaze to the scarred tabletop where he was absentmindedly tracing what appeared to be a drawing of a griffon crossed with a dementor and a three-headed dog. He wondered if Hagrid had ever sat at this table and then dismissed the thought. The half giant would never have fit.

After taking a sip of his butter-beer, Ron chanced another look at Draco and found the boy watching him with an inscrutable look on his face. It beat the murderous dagger look he had been giving him earlier, so Ron let out the breath that he'd been holding and took a moment to catalogue Draco's features. Finely chiseled jaw, full lips, eyes the color of the sky on a cold winter day and hair that was practically the absence of color.

Ron's heart skipped a beat and he choked on his next sip of butter-beer as he realized that Draco was beautiful, and that his dreams had not done the other boy justice.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, nose scrunched up as he watched Ron choke on his butter-beer.

Ron slapped the table and nodded. "Fine," he managed to croak out.

"Good," Draco said, lips pursed. He averted his gaze and Ron saw a light dusting of pink on the other boy's cheeks. It went straight to his gut and Ron swallowed air.

"Why'd you agree to come out with me?" Ron blurted out when the silence between them - occasional sips of butter-beer and stolen glances - had grown uncomfortable.

Draco dragged his gaze away from the Three Broomsticks' bar and blinked at Ron. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before biting his bottom lip and running his index finger along the lip of his tankard.

"I mean, you could go out with anyone," Ron said, feeling his face and his ears heat up. "Why me? You don't even like me."

"Why'd _you_ ask _me_ out?" Draco asked, turning the tables, steely eyes boring into Ron's, index finger poised on the lip of the tankard.

Swallowing his nerves, Ron squared his shoulders and forced himself to look Draco in the eye. He hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. "Because I find you attractive," he said.

Draco snorted, and looked down into his butter-beer. That faint dusting of pink colored his cheeks again, and Ron sighed.

"You've answered your own question," Draco said, voice quiet and altogether lovely.

Ron couldn't keep the grin off his face, and before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching across the table and pulling Draco into a kiss, sloshing their butter-beers. It was a messy, awkward kiss, Draco tasted of butter-beer and cinnamon and they kept clashing teeth, and at one point Draco elbowed his butter-beer, spilling it over the both of them, the tankard rolling onto the floor, but Ron had never experienced anything better.

When they pulled back for air, Draco's lips were pink and plump and shiny, and his cheeks were that dusty pink color that Ron was starting to love on the other boy (maybe he could get his mother to knit Draco a sweater in that color for the boy's birthday). Draco was staring back at him, gaze locked on Ron's lips, cheeks, eyes.

"Go out with me again?" Ron asked.

Draco laughed. It was throaty and sexy and it was all that Ron could do not to launch himself across the table and kiss him again.

"Why don't we finish _this_ date first?" Draco said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "And if you promise to keep your eyes where they belong, then, maybe."

Blushing, Ron nodded, and when Madam Rosmerta came over to their table to clean up the spill and give them fresh butter-beers, Ron kept his eyes locked on Draco's face, on the quirked brow, the pursed lips that were twitching with suppressed laughter and thought that there was no one else he'd rather look at.

 _"Some dreams do come true, you know,"_ Ron heard Hermione's voice whispering in the back of his mind, and found that he couldn't agree with her more.


End file.
